My Argonian Account
by Slyphen Frazer
Summary: THe story of Lar-shoova, a young Argonian martial artist who will, one day, become the Hero of Cyrrodil. But first, he is a lost ten year old growing up in a strange land.


Chapter 1- Lost

Running. That's all there was. Running, jumping, climbing….maybe running wasn't right. He was evading. Hiding, escaping.

Escaping. That was the word. Lar turned his scaly head in the direction he came, the Argonian staring at the foliage behind him. He quickly faced front, vaulting over a fallen log and landing in a roll as the land fell away farther than it should have: the log was on the edge of a short cliff, ten feet straight down. The reptilian youth was barely fazed by the landing, and was up and running without even slowing down. The Argonian, barely over ten summers of age but still nearing five feet tall, ran until the Moon Mother hung directly above his head. He threw himself head long into a knee deep puddle of water that was just long enough for him to lay down in, and snuggled himself into the mud. He drifted to sleep, his eyes half-open and just above the water like some strange, human-sized crocodile.

He dreamed of three days ago, in vivid detail. He was with his brothers and sisters, fighting one another and lifting animals in weight-training exercises, wrestling with the huge toads of his homeland in Black Marsh. Then they came, in their black hoods and robes, with magics of fire and ice, and creatures with rotting flesh that only moaned and stumbled when struck. His people fell, slain, one by one, until only Lar-shoova remained, surrounded by see-through people with no lower bodies, wielding swords and sharp, piercing shrieks…..then silence. Only six black figures remained, and one stepped forward, and raised a hand. The man's eyes, glowing red inside his hood, flashed, and the fist came down, and Lar knew no more.

With the strike of the hooded man, the sun slammed into Lar's eyes, and he snapped awake, and was running once again. He was heading west, out of his marshy homeland, as if the familiar feel of the sinking bogs and short, stumpy trees, the high fog and glowing mushrooms were all things that would draw the men in black to the young, frightened Argonian youngling. Lar ran until the mushy ground turned to earth, and the trees grew taller and firmer, and he knew he had passed into Cyrodiil, the land from where the Smooth Skins came. Perhaps here, he would find solace from the hoods and eyes and walking dead.

3 more days had passed, and the young one, unfamiliar with his new world, was lost. He was not hungry or thirsty, for the frequent rivers he came across had crabs and rats walking along their length, but he did not know if he was going where he must. Where must I go, the little one often thought as he ran.

His thoughts were interrupted, however when, one night as he slept curled up in shallow hole he had dug next to a river, a sound reached his ears. It was the sound of crying, mutters in a strange language, loud exclamations, and the sound of blows landing. The Argonian stood and made his way cautiously towards the sound, years of sneaking around sleeping croco-shaws having honed his dexterous tread. He made no noise on the terrain, stepping from tree root to tree root, and actually climbing into the trees at one point.

He quickly found himself behind a group of three hastily setting up camp. In actuality, only one, an Imperial Smooth Skin, was setting up camp, while the other, a powerfully built, seven foot tall Smooth Skin with heavy features held onto the arm of a small, Smooth Skin female. Probably a child. The Argonian watched as the biggest Smooth Skin raised a hand and struck the female across the face, making her cry out in pain. The other looked at the big one and said something in Common, a language that Lar had only a basic understanding of. It sounded something like "Don't hit…., Halg'far….don't want her….bruised when…..sell her." He understood enough to get that the girl was kidnapped, and these two were slave traders, something Lar had been taught to fear since he was hatched.

He had had his own run in with slavers some time ago. He had woken from the red-eyed hood man's slap to find himself in a cage, with an ugly, drooling, pig-faced Smooth Skin with darker skin called a Redguard, watching over him. The man had grinned and reached into the cage, and said in his own broken Argonian, "This healthy one. He make good trade worth when we sell him." The red guard then laughed and punched at Lar, but the young Argonian, trained and honed even at his young age, grabbed the man's arm, stabbed two fingers into his elbow and severed most of the ligaments, then broke his wrist when he howled in pain and relaxed his fist. The man stumbled back and his partner came over, readying a club, but Lar had already moved too fast. He had darted forward and snatched a dagger from the first man's belt before he could stumble out of range, and when the man came close with his club, Lar threw the dagger into the man's chest, killing him. He then kicked the flimsy cage door down, and was running. He ran and ran and slept and ate and ran some more until, now, he found himself face to face with more slavers. Lar didn't think. He acted.

The first one, the smaller Imperial, was leaning over a fire and beginning to start it. As soon as it was lit, the young argonian launched himself forward, kicking the man's buttocks with both feet, his body completely flat in the air. This move was known as a wild-horse-kicks-hard*. The Imperial went into the flames and howled. Lar, having fallen to the ground after his strike, was on his front and scampered forward on his hand's and feet, again like some huge crocodile, and lunged at the staring Nord, for Lar would later learn that this was indeed a Nord, and snapped his jaws at him. But the Nord was not unfocused, and his hand lashed out and caught the Argonian by the throat, stopping the scaly youngling in his tracks. The boy snarled and writhed, but the man only laughed…that was, until, the young girl struck him hard in his loins with a rock. The man relaxed his grip and Lar, his breath rushing back, kicked out, the side of his foot hitting the Nord in the neck, crushing his wind-pipe. The huge man fell backwards, dropping Lar to his feet. He looked at the girl, but she screamed, and Lar twisted his torso to see the other man rushing at him, half blind with pain, rage, and burn-scars, his hands outstretched to throttle the youngling. Lar did another move patented by his people, known as the Muckpool-drain-kick. He spun on his left foot, lifted his right foot up, then, when his right foot was pointing at the running target, he jumped on his left foot and kicked in a wide arc, striking the man on his outstretched hands, breaking fingers and turning him to the side. Then, just as his RIGHT foot landed, he hopped back up, continuing his spin, and kicked straight back into the side of the man's head**. The man's head snapped back with a sickening CRACK, and he slumped to the floor, face-down in the half-mud, wet-sand mixture on the ground. There were no bubbles in the mud.

Lar looked back over to the girl, who was staring at the corpse of the Nord man, and cocked his head to the side. He turned to leave, but the girl shot forward and grabbed Lar's arm and pulled him towards her, holding herself close to him. "Please…." she said in common. "Please help…find…home…."

Martial Arts glossary in case you want to search the moves and see what he was doing. If you want a good link, just message me and I'll post one so you can see what kicks and stuff he's doing.

*This was a drop kick.

** The first part of the kick was a tornado kick, and the second was a jumping back kick.


End file.
